Both princesses descended the grand staircase that would deposit them at the open ballroom doors.
Tirith wore a gown of royal blue. Maggie’s was a delicate, floor-length dress of pale blue. Tirith moved with cool, confident elegance. At her side, Maggie took each step with a quiet determination that was etched in the set of her shoulders, the most minute pinch of her lips.
Tirith was beautiful. Maybe the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen.
But Maggie slayed him. She stole his breath and every thought except a visceralmine.
A throat cleared beside him, and he came back to himself as the princesses entered the ballroom and the crowd came back to life, instantly swirling around him.
The man he'd been speaking to was looking at him with a sly smile that made Luc remember why he didn't allow his guard down in public.
"Does she know?"
It would be rude to excuse himself, even if all he wanted to do was push through the throng of idiots gathering around the two princesses.
He made himself smile. "Does who know what?"
"Princess Tirith. Does she know you're in love with her?"
He wanted to laugh but was afraid the desperate sound would make him sound crazy. Or give him away.
He wasn't now and never had been in love with Tirith. It would've been so much easier if he had been. They were a decent match, even if his family's coffers weren't what they once had been.
Maggie hadn't a care about politics. Maybe her innocent heart was what he admired so much.
And he knew she'd never settle for him, not when she was happy back in America.
The crowd parted, and there came Tirith, her stride purposeful as she made a beeline toward him. She had Maggie's hand in hers and was practically dragging her twin across the room.
He excused himself from the politician and met Tirith, suddenly feeling strangled by his black bowtie.
"Hello, darling." She greeted him with a kiss on the cheek. As she leaned toward him, her hand gripped his forearm. Hard.
He couldn't decipher the intense look in her eyes. Was she angry? Happy?
Every person nearby was watching them. He and Tirith were supposed to kick off the night with a dance, but Maggie's presence complicated things. He didn't want her standing at the side of the ballroom alone while he waltzed off with Tirith.
Nor was there an easy way to mention this to Tirith, not when every ear around was hanging on their every word.
But maybe Tirith had planned their entrance, because she spoke loudly enough for those around to hear. "Luc, having my sister join our little event is an honor. Would you escort her around the dance floor?"
"Of course." He’d had to speak past the relief lodged in his throat as he stepped past Tirith and extended his hand toward Maggie.
He couldn't smile at her. His feelings were already too close to the surface.
She wasn't looking directly at him, but she placed her hand in his. Her skin was like warm, like the princess herself.
The string quartet played, and music swirled around them. The crowd faded back to give them room on the ballroom floor.
And he took Maggie into his arms for the first time as herself.
He kept an appropriate amount of space between them when he wanted her closer.Tirith is here, he reminded himself. He would keep reminding himself. He didn't want any hint of scandal for his friend. But more importantly, he wanted to protect Maggie.
"Are you all right?" he asked. Alone on the dance floor, for now, no one was near enough to catch his words. It was a shame. If there had been a crowd, he would've had an excuse to lean in closer.
"Of course." A slight smile played about her lips. But it was the lift of her eyes to meet his gaze—the first time she'd done so since she'd entered the ballroom—that revealed the turmoil beneath her calm words.
She looked over his shoulder, but not before he'd glimpsed the vulnerability in her eyes.
